Who would try?
by tenofswords
Summary: Greg is sick of Ecklie's constant interference in the crime lab, so he decides to act. Spoilers for seasons 4 and 5.
1. The Bad News

**Who Would Try** by tenofswords665

**Chapter 1 – The Bad News...**

**Disclaimer:** If I owned CSI or any of the cast, I'd be some kind of genius. But I don't and I'm not. Now I'm sad.

Notes: This story is basically what I would do if I was a spiky-haired basket case and my boss was the creature from the black latrine. Sorry if anyone else has already had this idea, but there's, like, 7000 stories and I'm not checking all of them. First fanfic, so I welcome reviews, good, bad, or ugly. 

**Spoilers:** Seasons 4 and 5. This is set right after Mea Culpa.

Greg slumped back into his chair as if he'd been gut-punched. He couldn't BELIEVE what he'd just heard!

That ass-licking son-of-a-whore Conrad Ecklie had just earned a new degree of loathing in 'The Patented Greg Sanders Enemies List', right up there with the late Paul Millander, the sadly _not_ late David Hodges, and, for some long-forgotten reason, Homer Simpson (which was, in fact, due to a long and tragic tale involving the world's first ever cartoon restraining order).

To come back to the subject at hand, Greg's reaction to the news of Ecklie's latest duplicities was one of stunned disgust. The supervisory enquiry, launched under the pretext of investigating poor evidence handling during the Garbett case, was merely a thin justification for Ecklie to try and get Gil canned. Greg, who was no-one's fool, knew that. But when he'd heard that Sophia Curtis was going to be heading the inquiry, he had breathed a sigh of relief.

You see, Greg had met Ms. Curtis on more than one occasion, and had been most impressed with her professionalism and sombre demeanour, which reminded him strongly of a younger, feminine Grissom. She had, in return, pretended to be amused by his inane antics and demented capering (apart from what had passed into LVPD legend as the 'Swivel-chair Incident'...). In short, Greg knew that Sophia would be an unbiased judge, and that she had neither the time nor the patience for political blame shifting. Therefore, unless G.I. Grissom and the others fell apart professionally and emotionally, and made complete asses out of themselves all at once, they were safe from any reproach from that direction.

Sara and the other night shift CSI's, however, had been less than convinced when he informed them of this development. Greg soon learned that Ecklie had taken pains to interview/interrogate each of them in turn, apart from him, obviously not thinking enough of him to bother. Even after hearing this, his faith in the team's professionalism (or underestimation of Ecklie's malice) remained steadfast. He felt sure that Sophia would give them a glowing evaluation.

And he had been right. But he hadn't counted on Ecklie taking 'disciplinary action' (i.e. revenge) anyway! Gil had come into the break room looking like Uma Thurman had slapped him, and delivered the crushing news. All of it.

By the time Gil had finished, Greg could have happily choked the assistant director to death with a rancid cucumber (how is not a detail I will go into here!). The Graveyard shift, arguably the best criminalist team in Western America, had been split up! Sophia, Grissom added, had done her utmost to defend the team from Ecklie's hypocritical wrath, and had herself been demoted from her hard-earned position for her trouble!

But worst of all, the smug, self-satisfied prick had granted Catherine Willows' promotion...to SWING shift instead of days! The implications of this were not lost on the horrified ex-lab rat. The whole point of Catherine applying for the position of Day shift supervisor was so that she could spend more time with her daughter, and now Ecklie had put her on a shift that would stop her from doing just that; would in fact allow her to spend even less time with her little girl. All out of pure envy-born spite.

The young CSI ran a number of vicious epithets through his mind as he held his head in his hands for a moment. When he looked up, Grissom was gone, probably to deliver the sad tidings to his other colleagues. What Greg saw instead was a very hurt and morose Sophia trudge past the break room without stopping. Greg knew that offering any kind of flimsy commiseration would only result in her snapping at him. Instead he settled for snarling in frustration and beating up the nearest wall.

Greg cooled down as quickly as he could when it became apparent that the wall was winning the fight. As he sat on the sofa, nursing his freshly bruised knuckles, he held a fist to his head and tried to think of a way he could make this dire situation any better for his friends.

In a surprisingly brief space of time, the outlines of a plan were forming in his mind. Perhaps he could help the CSI's get through this after all...


	2. Grissom Muses

**Chapter 2 – Grissom Muses.**

**Note:** This is just filler as I try to prepare some kind of plot. Bear with me, I'm new at this.

**Disclaimer: **I don't think anyone would believe me if I said I _did_ own CSI, so I don't know why I'm writing this. Anyway, I don't own CSI and I don't own the characters. Happy?

Gil sat in Christie's coffee house with a bowed head and a sombre expression. This was not unusual for Dr. Grissom, for whom sombre expressions were almost an alternative way of saying 'Good morning'. In this case, however, there was no telltale twinkle of hidden amusement in his eyes as he tried not to laugh at Nick and Warrick's childlike bickering and macho one-upping, or small gleam of pride hiding behind his shades as Sara or Greg made an impressive connection between the bits and pieces of evidence they had that would suddenly make sense of it all.

No, this time there was sadness in his face. Sadness, and a dull species of fury, possibly even hate. It was, quite possibly, the only time Gilbert Grissom had ever actually felt genuine hatred of another person (at least one who wasn't a wife-beater, or a child-molester, or a drug-dealer). The veteran criminalist had always prided himself on being as patient and philanthropic as possible when it came to human beings, but this latest move by Ecklie jeopardised his team's efficiency, and Catherine's career.

Oh, she had her promotion, all right, Gil thought bitterly. For all the joy she'll find in it now...

These were reasons enough for Grissom's ire toward the insufferable Ecklie, but as much as he didn't want to admit it, there was another, more selfish reason. You see, Grissom had always enjoyed working with his fellow grave-shift CSI's, ever since each one had joined his team. In the last few years, he had grown accustomed to how his team handled themselves, which was to say very well at the least.

With a slightly wistful smile, Gil recalled his earlier words to Nick and Warrick, his now _former_ co-workers: "If a team gets used to doing things a certain way just because that's the way they've always done them, then they start to lose their effectiveness." Nick had instantly rejected the idea, asking if Gil really believed that.

Grissom had gently reassured him that he didn't, but in the depths of his heart, he wondered...

It had taken him a long time to adjust to the idea of Greg Sanders becoming a CSI, as well as the fact that the DNA lab would be run by Mia Dickenson instead. He hadn't reacted very well to the arrival from Los Angeles of David Hodges either, but then, he guessed, that made him and the rest of the crime lab. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if he had become slightly set in his ways as far as his work was concerned.

With a mild shiver, he realised that he had always been set in his ways, and that it wasn't just at his job. All his life he had done things in a certain way, and had never enjoyed the prospect of changing and adapting. Again, he recalled the words of wisdom he had passed on not two minutes earlier to his departing ex-colleagues, quoting Herodotus in a last attempt to reassure them: "It is in change that we find purpose."

That was all very well, but it didn't mean you had to like it. And now Conrad Ecklie, whom he had once called a fellow scientist (back before they found out they didn't like each other), had forced change on them, on him. And he was afraid. He didn't want any more changes in the crime lab, in his team, in his routine, his tradition, his...his life...

It was then that Gil reached the inevitable conclusion that this train of thought was leading to. A few seconds ago he had realised that his work had become predictable, and that his life had also become predictable. Now he knew that his work and his life were one and the same. Outside his job, he barely existed.

With he sigh, he stood up to leave, but his mind wasn't going to let him go without one last stab at him. His memory jolted to life again, recalling the Desert relay death, when a cop had been poisoned by some jerk, just because he'd taken his place in the relay. Grissom had told him "Sooner or later everyone gets replaced." The killer had bitterly responded "Talk to me when it happens to you."

For the first time ever, Grissom seriously considered that. What would happen to him when he retired? Worse, what would happen if Ecklie somehow got his wish, and was able to fire Grissom?

Now Gil was really scared...


	3. One Month Later

**Chapter 3 - One month later...**

**Disclaimer- **Not only do I not own CSI, I don't own Iron Maiden either. How poor am I? Maybe if I really did own Bill Gates' credit card number...hey, I can dream, right?

**Note- **The events in this chapter take place during Nesting Dolls. Spoilers and dialogue are present, so this may not make sense if you haven't seen it yet.

"_Catherine, I heard Ecklie suspended Sara. What can we do?"_

"_Nothing."_

"_Sara's always been there for anyone who needs her. She's always had my back. So what if she flew off the handle a little?"_

"_Greg, she crossed the line with a suspect; she was inappropriate with me and with Ecklie; she needs the time off."_

And that was the end of the conversation. Catherine strode off, being careful not to look back. If she looked back, she knew she might see Greg's face.

Actually, it wasn't too bad, considering. A little paler than normal, teeth ever-so-slightly bared, hair not on end for once, except on the back of his neck. If one looked there one might be reminded of a dog with its hackles raised. No, it was his eyes that were the big nightmare feature. When he heard about the split of the night shift, they had sparked with anger. Now, however, they blazed, promising dire and vicious retribution upon a certain Assistant Director.

Ecklie and Grissom had hated each other for a long time, and it was obvious that the night shift split had been an attempt to hurt Gil through his colleagues when Sophia had stopped him from getting fired. But from that to suspending Sara...

Did he know? That was absurd, he couldn't possibly...then again, Grissom's first lesson to his spiky-haired protégé had always been _Assume nothing_. That meant accepting the impossible as a potential truth, and acting accordingly. Sadly, in this case that also meant dumping on a fellow colleague.

_Ex-_colleague, Greg reminded himself sternly. He wasn't a lab-rat anymore. He was a CSI. He had to do what was necessary; he'd learned that when Atwater had seen him. But it didn't mean he had to like it. Greg entered the AV lab...

"You want me to do _what_?" Archie almost yelled, believing that he must have heard wrong.

Greg unscrewed his face from the world-class wince he had pulled at Archie's outburst and cautiously repeated himself: "I need you to go over the security tapes of the crime lab for the past few days, marking the sections where either Sara or Ecklie are present, and putting them onto a blank tape."

Archie tried to calm down and go to his 'happy place', but the sun had gone in, the sheep were over on the next hill, and the babbling brook had fallen silent, so he settled for yelling at Greg some more.

"Okay, first of all, do you have any IDEA how much trouble I could get into if Ecklie found out I was doing this? Forget suspension, I could get fired, I...I could get arrested for cryin' out loud!"

"I understand that, Arch..."

"And second of all, there's the time factor. Even if I fast-forwarded through the whole thing it would take roughly 16 hours. What you're asking could take twice that. I do actually have a life to think about here..."

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't import..."

"Third and finally, what's the point? You're...you're not expecting to catch Sara and Ecklie...at the same time...are you?"

Greg had a sudden (unfortunately vivid) picture of Sara and Ecklie sharing a hot dog. And a hot tub. And a hot shower. Resisting the urge to file a restraining order against his own imagination, he shuddered noticeably and continued.

"Arch, the information on these tapes could mean the difference between Sara getting fired and Sara getting promoted."

Archie's head shot up like a bottle rocket. The expression on his face was almost frighteningly intense. "Serious?"

"As a heart attack."

For a brief moment young Archibald Johnson was torn between doubt of Greg's last two statements and an almost painfully eager hope that they were both true. He had heard about what had happened to Sara (recently) and was no happier about it than any of her other friends. A brief vision of Sara swooping down on him and raining kisses on his face was visited upon him, and he almost caved. But Archie was, among other things, an opportunist, and he saw that Greg wanted this information badly enough to give a little more for it.

"I'm sorry Greg. I don't care if Bill Gates' credit card number is on this tape, you cannot expect me to go this high over Ecklie's head without something in return."

Greg made his finishing play by throwing a small rectangular object on the table. Archie casually glanced at it, and his eyes bugged big enough to fall from his face.

It was an envelope containing two tickets to the _Iron Maiden_ Los Angeles-New Jersey tour. Every concert in every state was covered.

"Make this tape for me and the tickets are yours."

"Would you prefer Beta, VHS or a transfer to DVD?"


	4. Catherine Wonders

Chapter 4 – Catherine wonders... 

**Disclaimer-** Everybody do the 'I don't own CSI' mambo! If I don't own it, you almost certainly don't! And if you do, I don't like you!

Notes- This chapter is set right before the end of 'Nesting Dolls', and contains spoilers and dialogue from the same episode, and also from the season two ep. 'Overload'. 

Walking down the corridor towards the DNA lab, Catherine was lost in her own thoughts. So lost in fact, that it took her entering the lab in question and seeing Mia Dickerson in there to make her remember that Greg Sanders was a CSI now, and off duty, therefore unlikely to be at his old station.

She about turned, mumbling an apology to a very confused looking Mia, and waited until she was out of the lab and in her office before allowing herself the luxury of thumping her head onto the desk. This hadn't been a good week for the crime lab.

Why did Sara have to blow her top like that? Why couldn't she have just held it in for a few lousy minutes? Why did Ecklie suddenly decide to make such a humiliating example of her after all the hard work she'd put into the mail order bride case (as it was now becoming commonly known)?

None of it made any sense. If Ecklie wanted to take his anger out on someone, why Sara? What had she done? More to the point, why ask Grissom to fire her? He must have known that Grissom would sooner swallow his own insect collection than fire Sara Sidle. _And_, Catherine suddenly wondered, why not jump all over Gil for breaking that skull embedded in the tar? Catherine hadn't mentioned the incident to anyone, let alone her new (a small shiver) boss, but Ecklie seemed to have a way of finding things out...

Naturally, Catherine had gone to see Ecklie regarding her and Sara's shouting match. She had claimed responsibility, saying she had provoked Sara, who was under a lot of stress, having already done exemplary work on what should have been a swing-shift case, etc. Ecklie's only response had been a brief "Duly noted" and an order to get back to work. Catherine had felt a sudden, surprisingly strong urge to kick him in the balls hard enough to propel him through his office window, but had complied with his order.

There was another riddle. Sara's work was usually exemplary, but on this case it had been almost frenzied! She had leafed through the hospital records inside an hour, had found a suspect (who had, in fact, been their killer) within another two hours, and the facial reconstruction would have made Teri Miller green with envy. This process usually took at least sixteen hours, and Sara had done it in a total of five!

What was so vital about this particular case? Catherine had accused Sara of losing it every time a domestic abuse case popped up, but to be fair, Catherine couldn't remember night shift (the _old_ night shift) handling too many of those tragic little delights. No, that had been spur-of-the-moment on her part, and a shot in the dark.

However, in this case she was right. Sara was firing on all cylinders, revving every engine she had, and had been in serious danger of burnout long before the case was over. Why?

A horrific thought occurred to Catherine. She had seen a CSI act like this once before, confronting suspects before the evidence was processed...

"_...flying solo, cutting me out...What's going on?"_

"_OK...There are some people you're supposed to be able to trust, you know ...I was nine, and she was a last minute babysitter...I've never told anyone before..."_

"_...I'm sorry..."_

Nick had flown off the handle on the Dylan Buckley case because he'd thought Dr. Sapian was molesting the poor kid, when it had all been down to some half-assed 'therapy' that had gone wrong. Was this what was happening now?

Was there some hideous ghost in Sara's past? Did she see some parallel between herself and the victim? With a groan of mixed sympathy and guilt, Catherine sank her head into her hands. That had to be what was going on! And now Ecklie was gunning for her...but that still didn't explain why he was going after Sara, of all people...

With an effort, Catherine shoved the thought aside. For once, _why_ wasn't important. She had to find Sara and make things right between them. But how was she going to do that, she wondered, without tearing open old wounds? She knew Grissom had gone to visit her at her home, but she held out little hope that the King of Diplomacy would be able to help Sara very much...

Greg might know what to do...With a sudden, sickening flash, she remembered her callous words to Greg regarding Sara's suspension. What must he think of her now? She had been getting so paranoid since she became a supervisor. She had been afraid that saying anything else would get her, Sara, or Greg in trouble if Ecklie found out...

If, _If, _IF! She had to get a hold of herself here! Ecklie wasn't omniscient! She knew what to do now. Find Greg and explain why she'd acted like she had, ask him if there was anything he knew about Sara that she should, then head over to Sara's house and make her apologies, being careful not to tread on any emotional landmines on the way.

Catherine swallowed a deep breath of air (and her pride), and walked into the break room. Greg was there, looking as if he'd swallowed a pair of lemons. His fist was held to his forehead, and his face was scrunched up like a paper bag. When Catherine walked into the room, his expression cleared. Probably still looking for a way to get Sara's suspension revoked, thought Catherine wonderingly. Greg was loyal as an old sheepdog.

"Greg, hi. Listen I'm really sorry for what I..."

"Whatever it is, I forgive you. Now listen carefully." Greg jumped up and began talking very fast, walking towards a surprised Catherine. "In about five minutes Ecklie is going to come to your office and ask you whether or not you think Sara should be disciplined for her actions. If you care about Sara, if you care about her career, her freedom, her entire life, then for the love of God, _tell him yes!_ Tell him she should be disciplined, but don't suggest a punishment!"

Catherine was stunned. "Greg what the hell..."

"There's no time! You're the only person I can trust with this and Ecklie's coming to your office in _minutes!_ Get over there!"

Catherine was about to stay, to demand to know what was happening, but one look at the urgency in Greg's normally cheery face and the fear in his eyes told her to get her ass in gear. She headed for her office. Once again, she knew what to do.

She would have to figure out what the hell it all meant later on.

Ecklie approached Cath's office at the same time she did. "Willows. I need to have a word with you."

Catherine felt an insane but mercifully brief urge to say "I know. Greg told me." Somehow she managed to force an "Oh?" of surprise, followed by "What about?"

"Why don't we talk in your office?" Ecklie held the door open and smiled what on a normal person would be a charming smile. Catherine was strongly reminded of a wolf in Granny's clothing. Keeping a hand near the butt of her gun, she followed him in.

"What's up, Ecklie?"

"Sidle's recent behaviour has become a cause for concern in this lab. I personally feel that enough is enough, but as Assistant Director I do have responsibilities, and the Sheriff insists that further action be taken in this matter."

You shitty little liar, thought Catherine but held her tongue.

"As you yourself are the aggrieved party here, I would like to have your opinion on the subject. Do you think that Sara Sidle should be disciplined further?"

If Catherine could have chosen to stop time at any one point in her life, it would have been then. She would have gone back to Greg and beaten an explanation out of him if necessary before answering that question. If she answered no, Ecklie couldn't take any further action without consulting the Sheriff, who Cath knew wouldn't fire a valued employee over something so trivial. Sure, Ecklie would hate her, but that was fine with her, the feeling was very much mutual.

Something stopped her just as she was about to say "No." Greg's face as he told her what he wanted her to do. Greg telling her she was the only one he could trust. Greg's eyes, begging her, pleading with her to say "Yes."

Feeling every inch like a certain twelfth disciple at a certain important evening meal, Catherine did as Greg had asked.


	5. Desperate Measures

**Chapter 5 – Desperate Measures...**

Disclaimer – If Monkey sees nothing, and Monkey does nothing, how much of CSI does Monkey (a.k.a. me) own? It's not a trick question. 

**Notes –** Okay, if the last chapter was kinda confusing this one will be downright baffling! Set at the end of Nesting Dolls, it contains spoilers and dialogue from that episode. And, yes, I know Greg is not a computer genius and these are not normal LVPD procedures, but for this chapter to work, I had to take liberties. Forgive me?

Greg looked at the footage with a grimace, his young mind moving at light-speed. It all made sense now. Why Ecklie was going after Sara, why Sara blew up at Ecklie, why Archie liked _Iron Maiden_ so much...

Dismissing that last item as unimportant, Greg focused on Ecklie, who had almost certainly seen what Greg was now looking at. Sara, on a camera that very few of the crime lab staff knew existed, entering the records department, and looking at one of the files of the lab personnel.

Greg was positive that the name on the file read 'Sidle', not 'Ecklie'. However, given the tormented expression upon Sara's face when she looked up, it was easy to see how someone who didn't know about her past could think otherwise. Especially if that 'someone' knew what was in Ecklie's file...

As for Greg, he knew everything. Having seen Sara crying over an old case 'The People vs. Laura Sidle-1982', it was an easy matter to discover why. Greg laughed in the face of government security codes, and tweaked the nose of federal computer protection devices. It took him less than half an hour to find out the full details of the court proceedings against Sara's mother, charges, defence arguments, etc.

When he had finished, he had been heartbroken. Now he ached with sympathy for Sara. And guilt. It was his fault. The whole mess that Sara was now in was his damn fault...

If Ecklie thought that Sara was sneaking a peek at his confidential files, then Sara could forget about suspension, and look for a new job! Ecklie would go after her with all guns blazing, and that was just what he was doing now! Not directly, for that would expose Ecklie's records to public scrutiny, and if that happened...No, he'd just been waiting for an excuse to pounce on her and fire her ass!

Greg left the AV lab and headed for the break room, passing a glassy-eyed Archie on the way, _Iron Maiden_ tickets clutched tightly in his caffeine-imbued hand. He reached the sofa and put his fist to his head. Furiously, he tried to think of what Ecklie would do next. How he would ensure Sara's dismissal.

It was obvious that asking Grissom to fire Sara had simply been a formality to buy time. No way would one ever fire the other, not if the President, the Pope and half a dozen royal families commanded it. Ecklie knew this, so why...?

With a flash of insight, Greg realised what Ecklie was trying to buy time for. Firstly, to make it look like he was calling the sheriff to ask for his take on the situation (Yeah, right!). Secondly, to remove himself a step further from this whole messy scenario, and appear to all watching that he was the good guy just trying to do what was best for the lab. Thirdly, and most importantly, to give himself a little breathing space before he went after his next target...

Catherine. He would go to the focus of Sara's frustrations and ask for her support. Another formality, as Catherine's opinion meant as much to Ecklie as the stock exchange meant to a snail's ass.

However, if she said she didn't want Sara punished further, then Ecklie could fire her anyway! He would claim personal insubordination, threatening behaviour or whatever he wanted to the sheriff, who was at a conference in Utah. This was precisely what Ecklie wanted to happen. A quick, clean dismissal, with the backing of old Rory Atwater.

However, if Catherine said yes...

A desperate plan formed in Greg's mind. This was followed by a quick check on his laptop of where Ecklie would be now, and how soon he would act. He examined Ecklie's schedule, having hacked into his computer within seconds. There it was, on his diary!

"Get Willows 'opinion' regarding Sidle matter10.00pm"

Greg knew Ecklie was so anal his ass had it's own waste disposal timetable, so if Ecklie said 10.00pm, he meant _on the dot_. Greg checked his watch. Shit, that was five minutes away!

Just then, Catherine arrived. Greg whispered a brief "Thank you" to God, and told Catherine what he knew she had to do. After she'd left, Greg leaned back in the chair and thought his plan through.

If Catherine asked for further action against Sara, then Ecklie would have no choice but to inform Atwater. If he didn't Catherine would, he knew that much. The old sheriff would sooner give his position to a crack junkie than dismiss one of his finest CSI's over something as trivial as insubordination. The demand for such heavy handed action against Sara would give him cause to question some of Ecklie's other decisions and the motives behind them...

Unless Ecklie wanted this to happen (and he did NOT!), he would have to drop all charges against Sara and not pursue any further disciplinary action. Therefore, Greg's entire plan hinged upon making sure that Catherine would get to speak to the sheriff as well _and tell him the truth!_

Otherwise the sheriff's sole correspondent in the matter would be Ecklie, with his own untrue version of the events. Greg hoped with all his heart that she didn't answer no.

If she did, Sara was doomed. Ecklie would consult the sheriff without Catherine, twisting the facts, exaggerating Sara's behaviour, even lying through his back teeth to get Atwater's approval, and then he would fire her.

Greg had no idea how long this train of thought continued, but it must have been awhile, because the next time he looked towards the door Gil Grissom was standing there, wearing an expression that could best be described as 'non-existent'. So, nothing new there.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

Wake? This was news to Greg. Had he fallen asleep?

"Have you seen Ecklie anywhere? He wanted to talk to me about Sara."

"Yeah, I think he's in Cath's office."

_Now_ Gil's face had an expression on it, and not a pleasant one; "Cath's office?"

Greg felt like kicking himself. Hard. "Yeah."

Gil turned to leave, that hard expression still present and correct.

"Gil, listen" Greg stammered, "Whatever she says in there, just remember, she's on our side, and on Sara's. Remember that."

Gil's only reply was a brief "Sure." And then he was gone.

**Author's Note: **Okay. So ends the most complicated chapter of the tale. If anyone found this too confusing then tell me, and I will try to clarify it in the next chapter (or maybe I'll just change this one). I cannot go a step further without reviews! I need to be told what I'm doing wrong (or right).

**PS:** wdbydoglvr - I hope this chapter answers your questions about Sara. If not, tell me what to do, and I'll try to do it!


	6. Crossed Motives

**Chapter 6 – Peculiar Motives...**

**Disclaimer-** Don't own it, haven't been there, haven't done that, don't got the shirt. Maybe tomorrow?

**Notes-** This chapter is set in and around the last scene of 'Nesting Dolls', and as such, contains spoilers and dialogue from that episode. _Dialogue is in Italic._ This chapter contains three points of view: Ecklie's, Catherine's, and Grissom's. Enjoy!

_**Ecklie's POV**_

Conrad Ecklie, assistant director of the Las Vegas crime lab, blinked slowly and shook his head slightly. "I'm s-sorry, Willows, _what_ did you just say?"

Catherine Willows, looking (and feeling) like she would rather be anywhere else in the world, doing anything else in the world, repeated herself "Yes, Ecklie. I think Sara Sidle should be disciplined further for her actions."

Ecklie could not quite believe what he was hearing. This was easily the last thing he had ever expected Catherine to say, and she was saying it. But she wasn't supposed to say that, his mind yelled at him. She was supposed to disagree!

Some of the shock must have registered on his face, because Catherine was looking at him carefully, as if she were trying to visually dissect him, or analyse him as she would a piece of evidence. Ecklie cleared his throat and said "W-well, thank you for your input on this, uh, delicate matter, uh, Willows. But, uhm, on to other business. I see that you have also recommended that a, erm, follow-up federal investigation be launched into the _Madame Matryoshka_ hair salon."

"Yes, you see; I think Chloe Daniels may be involved with more than mail-order brides. I have done some background checks, and..." She spoke, but Ecklie didn't listen. His mind was reeling, and it was all he could do to keep his face (relatively) impassive.

Catherine's answer meant two things, one of which was extremely good, the other extremely bad. Ecklie, ever a practical man (or so he considered himself) reflected on the bad thing first. There was now no feasible way that he could fire Sara Sidle, at least not for insubordination. Had that blonde-haired bitch sitting opposite him answered 'no' like she was supposed to, then he could have gone through with his plan.

He had intended to bring up a bogus charge against Sara Sidle and have her framed for it. The charge in question would have been severe incompetence, he figured that would suit her nicely, she who was always so utterly meticulous in her work. However, the only way he could have brought the (naturally fake) evidence for this charge to the sheriff would have been alone.

But now that Catherine had apparently decided to punish Sara, such evidence would not be able to be introduced, as Catherine would disprove it before the sheriff's eyes in a flash. If there was one thing she would never do, it was lie about a colleague.

And if Ecklie knew Catherine, there was no way in hell that she would trust him enough to simply sit back and allow him to go to the sheriff without her (and he was right!).

He had been checkmated. There were no two ways about it. If Sara went down, so did Ecklie. He would have to find some other way to dispose of her. If she had started nosing around through the lab's confidential files, it was only a mater of time before she found what was in Ecklie's file...

Shying away from this horrible scenario, he concentrated on the good side of Catherine's answer; she had taken Ecklie's side! Against all reasonable logic, she had moved to punish Sara! True, she had unknowingly scotched Ecklie's plans in the process, but still...

Ecklie had noticed some static between the two CSI's in the past, especially when a case hit to close to home for one, or both of them. However, he had assumed that they had always kissed and made up afterwards (and done considerably more, in Ecklie's positively lurid dreams...).

But now it looked like one had pushed the other too far. Could that be possible? Could Catherine actually want Sara out of the crime lab? Ecklie supposed it was potential; since the shift split Catherine and Grissom had certainly been getting more and more irate with one another.

It could simply be down to frustration on Catherine's part, after all, she'd missed her chance at day-shift supervisor and her daughter had recently mouthed off at her. Perhaps she was displacing her anger onto Sara.

Still, on the off-chance it did go deeper, Ecklie decided, he would give Catherine a bit more leeway, cut her some more slack. He would still keep a close eye on her though. After all, if Ecklie really had found a new ally in Catherine...

SNAP!

"Hunh!" Ecklie almost jumped out of his skin.

"Hey! Earth to Ecklie! Come in!" Catherine had snapped her fingers in his face and was looking at him impatiently. Ecklie mentally cursed himself. What was wrong with him? Just because he had been thrown a curve ball... He refocused on Catherine (particularly the part of her that had always earned her extra tips back in her dancing days), and told himself he would consider this development further later on...

He was saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of a new presence. Gilbert Grissom had apparently managed to drag himself away from his bugs and bottles long enough for a brief moment of human contact. No prizes for guessing why, Ecklie thought sarcastically.

"_You wanted to see me about Sara?"_

Knew it. _"I haven't received her disciplinary action. What's the hold-up?"_

"_Well, I'm not firing her." _

No surprises there. Ecklie had only asked him to do so earlier to give himself more time. It was so pathetic, Ecklie mused, how Gil always had to play the knight in shining armour whenever _she_ got into any kind of trouble. He was turning into a walking midlife crisis.

"_What action are you taking?"_

Whoa, did Catherine actually say that? Ecklie was privately gloating! He really _would_ have to keep an eye on her...

"_I've taken it."_

Ecklie re-entered the conversation._ "I thought I was clear."_

_"You were. Now let me be equally clear. Sara's behaviour is a direct result of my management."_

Oh please Grissom, don't make me puke, Ecklie moaned inwardly_. "So I should fire you."_

_"But you won't."_

Ecklie's grin faltered. No, that wasn't going to happen. Not today. "_Look, Gil ... I've been there. We're human. We get attached to people; we try to fix their problems. It doesn't work."_

This was a last attempt on Ecklie's part, but privately he already knew the battle was over, and he had lost.

He wasn't disappointed._ "She's a great criminalist, Conrad. And I need her."_

And finally, Ecklie conceded defeat. "_I'm sure you do. You know what? She's a loose cannon with a gun. And she's all yours."_

He threw the file he had been holding down, and stalked off.

_**Catherine's POV**_

Catherine had never felt like such a traitor in her life! Why couldn't Greg have spared a few lousy seconds just to tell her what the hell this was all about? But that urgent, almost fearful look on his face just wouldn't go away, and she went ahead and told Ecklie to 'discipline' (i.e. fire) Sara.

His reaction was understandable, Catherine supposed, as he would have obviously thought her the last person to say such a thing. As had she, she reflected miserably.

Then Ecklie was asking her about the investigation she had suggested into the hair salon that was really a stop off point for future brides. Catherine gave herself a mental prod and began to speak.

"Yes, you see; I think Chloe Daniels may be involved with more than mail-order brides. I have done some background checks, and her name popped up in an LAPD investigation into a prostitution ring involving teenage boys and girls. But they had no hard evidence to suggest that she had been anything more than a friend of one of the dead hookers, so they dropped it.

"Now, out of professional courtesy Denver sent over a copy of the document with her name on it. It was found inside the room of one Rachel Sampson. Chloe Daniels gave this girl in particular her name and number, when she wouldn't give her own mail-order brides the time of day. Doesn't that strike you as kind of odd?"

She waited for a response: "Ecklie?" Looking over, she saw that Ecklie was staring into empty space, with a pensive expression on his features and a faraway look in his eye.

Jeez, isn't ANYONE going to listen to me today! thought Catherine exasperatedly. She reached over and snapped her fingers in his face, watching with some satisfaction as he almost wet himself. He made his excuses, and politely asked if she could repeat that last segment.

Rolling her eyes, Cath did so, not missing the way he stole a glance downwards every so often. Figures, she thought. Wife giving you static again, Eck?

Just then ,Grissom arrived. Catherine saw the look on his face, and briefly considered plunging Ecklie's letter opener into her guts as she recalled what she had said about Sara. For that was undoubtedly why he was here.

"_You wanted to see me about Sara?"_

Ecklie seemed to wake up. _"I haven't received her disciplinary action. What's the hold-up?"_

_"Well, I'm not firing her."_

Catherine knew it would be more prudent to remain silent while Gil was in a mood like this, but she had to know if Sara was okay. _"What action are you taking?"_ Please say none, please say none, please say none, she mentally begged.

"_I've taken it."_

Was that good or bad, Cath wondered. Grissom's expression didn't change.

Ecklie spoke up._ "I thought I was clear."_

_"You were. Now let me be equally clear. Sara's behaviour is a direct result of my management."_

Oh shit! Did this mean he was going to take the rap for it?

_"So I should fire you."_

_"But you won't."_

A small, selfish part of Catherine felt jealous of Sara all of a sudden. Would Gil take the flak like this if it was _her_ career on the line, and not Sara's. Telling that part of her to shut the hell up, she listened to Ecklie's last-ditch attempt.

"_Look, Gil ... I've been there. We're human. We get attached to people; we try to fix their problems. It doesn't work."_

"_She's a great criminalist, Conrad. And I need her."_

And with that, Catherine knew, it was over. So did Ecklie, apparently. _"I'm sure you do. You know what? She's a loose cannon with a gun. And she's all yours."_

He stormed out of her office, leaving the two of them alone.

Please don't hate me for this, Gil. I had to, Greg told me to, he begged me to...

Cath considered blurting this out, but why put Greg in harm's way? What would that solve? So instead, all she could do was look at Grissom and wait for his reaction, for the inevitable accusation.

It never came. Instead, Gil's face finally softened, and he said "Greg told me that no matter what happened, you were on Sara's side. And I believe him."

Relief sweeping through her, Catherine Willows said: "Believe it, Gil. I am."

_**Grissom's POV**_

Grissom wondered what Sara was thinking now. What she thought he would say, what she thought he would do. He never stopped learning about people, it seemed, least of al his own friends.

This from the man who so openly welcomes change, he mentally chastised himself. Perhaps if he'd taken the time to learn about what Sara was really like, what demons she'd had to fight, to overcome in her life...

Now it was too late. The damage was already done, and it was too late, just as Sara herself had prophesised once upon a time. _"By the time you figure it out, it might be too late."_

Grissom groaned and put a hand to his head. What could he do to make this right? He had refused Sara's offer for a reason. Of course he found her physically attractive, he doubted there was a man in the lab that didn't. Well, maybe Hodges, but then he'd always wondered about Hodges...

But it wouldn't matter if she was Marilyn Monroe (who had been a young Gilbert's childhood fantasy model), the fact remained; she was barely thirty, and he was almost fifty. He couldn't have her. He was too old.

But then, why did he feel comfortable casually flirting with Sophia? She wasn't much older than Sara was, and he hadn't known her as long. Maybe that was it. Maybe he'd shied away from Sara because he'd known her previously, and she had once been his student. Perhaps that was why he felt uncomfortable with the thought of her as his...girlfriend?

But did he feel uncomfortable with it? When he considered what it would feel like to be with her, putting all morality, all ethical considerations aside, he most definitely did _not_ feel uncomfortable. Should he then not bother with Sophia, if he would be thinking about Sara?

This was the loop his mind caught itself in as came to Catherine's office, and found both his most favourite person and his least favourite person there as promised. Oh, boy, this wasn't going to be pleasant, he thought.

"_You wanted to see me about Sara?"_

Ecklie turned to regard Gil with slightly less smugness than usual._ "I haven't received her disciplinary action. What's the hold-up?"_

_"Well, I'm not firing her."_ As you must surely have known, Ecklie, so why even ask me to, wondered Grissom.

"_What action are you taking?"_

Gil suddenly had to fight hard to keep his jaw from dropping. That was Catherine who had said that. _Catherine_, not Ecklie. What the hell was going on? Gil remembered that Greg had tried to convince Gil that Cath was on their side. Well, duh, Grissom had thought at the time.

Now all of a sudden, he wasn't sure of anything anymore...With an effort, he dragged himself back to reality and answered:

"_I've taken it."_

"_I thought I was clear."_ This was Ecklie, no doubt trying to re-establish some meagre control over the situation. This was it, he told himself. Time to bite the bullet, time to face up to your failures, Gil Grissom.

_"You were. Now let me be equally clear. Sara's behaviour is a direct result of my management."_

_"So I should fire you."_

"_But you won't." _Though he would dearly love to...

"_Look, Gil ... I've been there. We're human. We get attached to people; we try to fix their problems. It doesn't work."_

Why was he trying something he knew wouldn't work? _"She's a great criminalist, Conrad. And I need her."_

"_I'm sure you do. You know what? She's a loose cannon with a gun. And she's all yours."_

Gil blinked. Was that it? Ecklie was giving up so soon? Had something happened that he'd missed? He became aware that Catherine was looking at him in an odd way.

Catherine. A part of him had always admired her, but ever since she had shot Syd Goggle, the vicious Strip Strangler (Gil still hated that title) off his back, he'd sometimes wondered if she wasn't invincible! Although younger than Grissom, she'd often been like a big sister to him, sometimes even made him feel like a little kid.

She couldn't have come around to Ecklie's side, she just couldn't have, it wasn't possible...

And when Grissom saw her face, he knew he was right; she _hadn't_ taken Ecklie's point of view, no matter what he might think. He allowed his expression to soften as the angry mask fell away. "Greg told me that no matter what happened, you were on Sara's side. And I believe him."

Catherine looked as if a three-ton weight had been pulled off her shoulders. "Believe it, Gil. I am."

_**Elsewhere...**_

Ecklie stormed furiously down the corridor, looking forward, not looking back. If he had looked back, he might have seen a young man staring silently after him with rage beyond his years, watching him with devil's eyes.

It wasn't over. Sara was safe, for the moment, but Greg Sanders was NOT done with Conrad Ecklie, not by a long shot...


	7. Nick Listens Sara Reflects

**Chapter 7 – Nick listens. Sara reflects.**

**Disclaimer **– It's mine! Mine! All mine! No one else gets anything...nah, not really.

**Notes – **This chapter contains spoilers and Dialogue from 'Unbearable' and possibly some from earlier seasons. In this chapter, the action skips back and forth from Nick to Sara as the 'Unbearable' episode progresses, so bear with me.

_**Nick's POV**_

_"A brown hair with a follicular tag. A person's entire identity balled up in a few nanograms of matter."_

_"Assuming one's identity can be wholly quantified by our DNA."_

_"Well, genetically, it can. We're completely programmed as soon as the sperm hits the egg."_

_"So we're defined at a cellular level?"_

_"More or less."_

_"No. Identity is the totality of our life experiences and our brain neurons process our relationship to the world and each other."_

_"I stand corrected. DNA is what we are, not who we are._

Nick was still laughing half an hour later.

Oh, boy! Grissom and Sophia...in the morgue...over a dead body...talking about DNA and sperms and brain neurons...Ladies and gentlemen, call up the Guinness book of world records! We have a winner for 'World's Most Romantic Conversation'!

" 'Identity is the totality of our life experiences'...Man, there is something seriously wrong with _that_ lady..." Nick muttered under his breath as he searched through the Las Vegas vehicle databases.

Officers on patrol had found an abandoned Merc near the site where hunter and bear had died together, and now Nick was checking to see who the customised plates (which had read 'Kikazz') were registered to.

Got him! A Mr. Rod Hollis owned the vehicle, and Nick instinctively knew he was their vic. Time to let Cath and Warrick know they had a name.

_**Sara's POV**_

It had been, Sara thought as she walked down the corridor, potentially the worst month of her adult life. The fun had just never stopped. First that pig-poking ass-bandit Ecklie had broken up their team, then the insufferable Hodges had started a rumour that Sara was a beer-chugging alcoholic (until Warrick had threatened him with a fingerprint powder enema!), and finally, Ecklie had jumped on her and suspended her after she lost it with Catherine.

During her suspension she had received quite a few visitors. The first had been Grissom, with the news that Ecklie wanted him to fire her, and the conversation that inevitably turned to her past...

The second had been Nick, offering reassurance, sympathy, and much-appreciated company. Sara smiled. Nick always seemed to know how to make her feel at least a little better.

The third had, incredibly, been Catherine, with an apology for what had happened, as if it had been _her_ who'd blown up at _Sara_, not the other way around. Sara had told Cath that she should be the one apologising, and Cath had delivered the welcome news that Sara wasn't getting fired.

Sara reached the break room at the end of the hallway and saw who was inside. It didn't improve her mood any. Grissom and Sophia talking and laughing together. _Why_ this should make her feel like she'd just swallowed a snake whole was something that eluded her.

Or perhaps she knew why and was simply not acknowledging it. Some of the things her councillor had talked about had kind of stuck with her, and denial was one of them. Perhaps, she mentally lectured herself, you were expecting him to make a big fuss over you now that you'd finally shared your big secret with him. Fat chance.

She had always assumed that Grissom didn't want to get too close to anyone. Now it was starting to look like he just didn't want to get too close to Sara, but didn't mind getting to know Sophia. Sara shivered slightly. She didn't like Sophia very much.

There was no question mark over her dedication, and Sara could admire that in anyone, but there was something about Ms. Curtis that set off a tiny alarm bell in the back of her mind. She knew that Catherine was no great fan of Sophia's, but again, she didn't know why...

With an effort, Sara told herself to stop being so paranoid. Sophia had done nothing wrong, had in fact, defied the graveyard shift's expectations by defending Gil Grissom's actions against Ecklie and his newly established authority.

Still, that feeling just wouldn't quit. For the time being though, Sara told it to shut the hell up for a moment, and entered the room to deliver her findings...

_**Nick's POV**_

Well, that case went relatively well, mused Nick as he sauntered down the corridor, getting ready to call it a night...or was it day now...? Nick cursed under his breath. Damn swing shift! He hated starting in the afternoon and finishing sometime around midnight. His whole sense of time was kind of distorted these days...nights...dammit!

As Nick was pondering his little temporal paradox, he walked by Grissom's office and noticed he and Sophia deep in what looked like a heavy conversation. He smiled. Sophia seemed to be pretty good at bringing people out of themselves, hell, even Hodges had eased out of his own little 'I am a smarmy-ass jerkoff' routine since Sophia had arrived on grave shift. Maybe she could convince the boss (for so he still privately considered Grissom) to come out of his shell a little bit...

He felt a sudden, mercifully brief impulse to scream "Identity is the totality of our life experiences!" at the top of his voice in their general direction. He suppressed the urge with an effort, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

_"Let's have dinner, shall we?"_

Nick froze mid-stride; his easy smile vanished like a ghost.

No. Fucking. Way. No way in hell did he just hear what he had heard. Because what he had heard was wrong. Was wrong on so many levels. It was incorrect. False. A fallacy.

_Gil Grissom_ had just asked _Sophia Curtis_ out on a date. But Gil Grissom did not ask people out on dates. Gil Grissom did not ask _anyone_ out on a date, never mind a woman he had met barely a month ago!

And, Nick's brain added as a last reminder, it was _Sophia!_

As the two walked out of Grissom's office, side by side, Nick made a valiant effort to vacate the area. It didn't work.

"Oh, uhm, hey boss..." Nick made an equally brave effort at nonchalance, this one a little more successful.

"Hey, Nick. What's up?" Grissom was the picture of contentment. No wonder, thought Nick enviously.

"Uh, I was just gonna hit the road."

Sophia threw her spoke in "Need a lift?"

Nick's stomach tried to do a few trapeze stunts at the prospect of keeping up this casual act for the entire trip home. Fortunately, none of this inner horror reached his face.

"No, no, that's all right, thanks. I finally got my car out of the body shop."

"Oh, okay. Well, goodnight Nick."

"Night, boss. So, it is night-time?"

A small laugh. "Yes Nick. You'll get used to it."

They said their goodnights and, to Nick's immense relief, went their separate ways. Congratulations, Casanova, he thought. Now you have two beautiful women after you.

With a sickening jolt, his mind turned to the other beautiful woman involved...Sara Sidle.

How in the hell was she going to react to this?

_**Sara's POV**_

_"I don't know if you know this about me, but I am a good listener..."_

Truer words had never been spoken, thought Sara have gladly, half wistfully. Greg Sanders, whatever else he might be, was indeed a good listener. Maybe it should have been Greg, not Grissom, who she had told about her past...

Not that she was especially keen to repeat that little conversation with another person, but he might react better than Grissom had. She knew she was being selfish, and more than likely it would just look like she was seeking attention...

But, she mused; it would be nice to have some attention...

It had only been a week after her suspension, and already Grissom seemed to be acting as if she didn't exist. Sophia, she reflected; was another matter. She _was_ pretending Sara didn't exist, or at least trying to.

You are just being paranoid, she told herself, but she knew in her heart that wasn't true...

Catherine, Nick, Warrick. She missed them all dearly. She missed working alongside Catherine, with her indomitable spirit and encouraging demeanour, Nick, with his carefree attitude and easy charm, and Warrick, with his calm, self-assured personality and ironic humour.

They were her best friends, she realised, and she loved them all.

But, she wondered, what about Greg? How did she feel about Greg? Working together in the field, they had become closer friends recently, more so than ever before. She had become almost a big sister figure to him.

What was he to her? A friend? A teammate? A colleague? A little brother? Or...something else...?

She was surprised to find that this thought was not entirely unappealing. He was not unattractive (well, maybe his hair...), he was fairly sweet, obviously intelligent, and he could make her laugh when he felt like it...

On impulse, she picked up the phone and dialled.

She could really use a laugh right now...


	8. Whose Side Are You On?

**Chapter 8 – Whose side are you on?**

**Disclaimer** – If I owned CSI, this stuff would be on a TV screen, not a computer screen. But I don't mind. I also don't own the Bellagio. (Also, if there is someone out there named Clarice Robertson, then I apologise in advance for a **very** unflattering diatribe later on, which isn't meant to relate to any real person.)

**Notes –** Set during 'King Baby'. Spoilers and dialogue ahoy! (_Dialogue in Italic._) 

Greg caught up with Grissom and Ecklie in the crime lab's main corridor. He swallowed. He was ready. After over a month, he was finally ready. But it was still going to be tricky. He just prayed everyone would stay the hell out of his way.

What were they talking about, Greg wondered. He strained his ears to catch some of Grissom's speech. Something about someone named Dorothy...the Wizard of Oz...and nude pictures? What!

Shaking his head in disgust, Greg joined the conversation. He spoke directly to Ecklie for once, telling him about Sy Magli's late night phone calls from Bruce Eiger's home. Grissom put forward his 'Hate mutated into Passion' theory. Greg privately doubted this, as he'd once had to practically pull Sy Magli out of the Bellagio's restaurant just to get his groping hands away from an unfortunate cocktail waitress.

Still, Greg supposed, stranger things had happened. Naturally, Sy had been bombed out of his skull, and wouldn't have recognised his own mother if he'd tripped over her (not that he ever could recognise his own mother, of course), so Greg agreed to go with Brass and handle the interview, knowing that Sy wouldn't remember him.

But not before receiving what he had come to receive...

On the way to Brass' Taurus, he discreetly unfolded the small scrap of paper in his hand and read what was on it:

'02653 459 780'

And on the back: 'Call as soon as it's yours.'

Greg clenched his fists in triumph. Yes! He was in! Now came the trickier part...

* * *

Trickier part, Greg reflected several hours later, was an understatement. He had searched high, low, in-between, hell, he had looked _everywhere_ for the damn thing and he still couldn't find it.

He growled in frustration. This wasn't good. He knew from his final proficiency tests (and the fact that he'd had more than one!) that he would never be as good a CSI as, say, Nick, or Sara, and certainly not the unmatched calibre of Catherine or Grissom,

but he'd figured that he was at least good enough to do this! If he wasn't, then maybe he didn't deserve to be outside the lab...

Stop doing this, Greg told himself. You're a CSI, you've proved you're a CSI, and you _will_ find it. Not because you're good enough, but because of what balances on it...

He went over and over the possible hiding places in his head. The hallway, the gardens, the office, the bedroom. He had searched every square inch, and nothing! Sighing, he picked up the phone and dialled.

The person on the other end picked up: "Have you got it?"

Greg took a deep breath. "Not yet. Look, you knew him better than I did. Where would he hide something like this?"

"If I knew, I would tell you." The voice on the other end sounded pissed off. "The whole point was that no-one knew squat about him."

Greg tried again: "Look, I need..."

"I don't give a tin shit what you need. Find it! _Now!_"

The owner of the voice hung up. Greg flipped his cell phone closed. "Always a pleasure" he snarled at it.

Greg knew he wasn't going to find anything just by going over the same places with tired eyes. He needed to know if there was anything the others had found out about the guy that might help.

Leaving by the same secret passage he had come in by, Greg vacated Bruce Eiger's mansion and headed back to the crime lab...

* * *

It turned out that Greg's return was well timed for two reasons. The first became immediately apparent after taking a look at the news headlines. They included close-up photos of what should have been a closed crime scene! Apparently Greg wasn't the only one who knew about secret entrances and exits...

Catherine, looking tired and angry, had confirmed in front of both Greg and Ecklie that the shots were hers. Greg wasn't worried. He knew what to expect.

And he wasn't disappointed_. "I'll have our public information officer contact his __counterpart at the station. We'll also call Judge Anderson and get a warrant __for the memory card, any copies, and the name of their source."_

Greg absorbed this declaration with a small, knowing smile on his face, while Catherine looked as if someone had told her the universe was ruled by purple monkeys. Oh, that must have hurt, thought Greg maliciously. Having to cover for Catherine the one time she slipped up, and missing a golden opportunity to fire or suspend her.

Meanwhile, all Catherine could think of to say was: _"Thank you, Conrad."_

Ecklie turned around. _"It's my job."_

Greg stopped smiling. When Ecklie had said that, he'd sounded sincere! Greg couldn't help wondering if Ecklie actually thought that he had an ally in Catherine...

Greg, keeping his face relatively impassive, left the room to ask his fellow CSI's if there was anything particular he should know about Bruce Eiger.

An hour later, he had his answer.

Greg was more weirded out by this whole thing than he cared to admit. Why in the name of all that was good and holy would **_ANYONE_**, never mind a casino owner who had an eight-digit bank account, would want to run around their mansion dressed like Baby Huey, getting water-bottle enemas and soiling himself?

On the upside, it certainly gave Greg a few extra places to search back at the old place. He was on his way back to the mansion to check the playpen when he found out the second reason his arrival back at the lab was well timed.

Sara and Nick were taking apart a big old toy box with pictures of ducks and fishes on it in the evidence room. Just as Greg walked by, they pulled the side open.

And there it was!

Greg ducked back to the doorframe as Nick and Sara examined their find, listing Sam Braun and Sheriff Rory Atwater among those with dirt on them.

"Oh, no..." Greg whispered under his breath. He HAD to get to that box! No matter what it took, he just had to!

Not feeling at all good about what he was about to do, Greg retreated to an empty lab and dialled up Sara on his cell phone...

"_Well, apparently Sy liked the whole spectrum..."_ Nick began, then Sara's mobile went off.

She picked up. "Sara Sidle, Las Vegas Crime Lab."

"Sara? Grissom's looking for you. Says he has something important to tell you."

"Did he say what?"

"No, just that it couldn't wait."

Sara grimaced. Typical Grissom. "Okay, thanks." She hung up and turned to Nick. "I've gotta go. Let me know what you find."

Nick nodded and she left. Rubbing his hands together in greedy anticipation, he turned back towards the box. Then Greg poked his head in the doorway.

"Hey, Nick, there's somebody called Clarice here to see you. Does that mean anything to you?"

Nick's eyes widened. "Oh, hell, not again! Does she know I'm here?"

"I guess. Anyway, she's on her way up." And with that, Greg made his exit.

Clarice Robertson had been, by far and away, THE worst date of Nicholas Stokes' entire life! The evening had begun with her saying a short prayer to the Dark Lord of Kirash before eating and had gone downhill from there, ending with her promising on the blood of her forebears that they would be wedded under Saturn. Nick had vowed never to try Internet dating ever again in his life. So far she had wrecked a potential date and called him at work five times on the same day. Greg had been fortunate enough to pick up on the fifth time, and so had found out everything.

Nick ran from the evidence room to hide out in the trace lab. As soon as he was gone, Greg made his move. He made a beeline for the toy box, completely ignoring the files. He knew the depths of Eiger's paranoia enough to know that these would be a last, desperate decoy. He slid open one of the side panels inside the smaller pockets that held the files.

And a small floppy disk fell into hi outstretched palm. He had it!

It wasn't until he was safely inside an empty locker room that he allowed himself the luxury of celebration. He fell back on the nearest locker with a long-held sigh of relief, and let a wide, satisfied grin trickle onto his features. Securing the disk inside a zip pocket on his jeans, he headed to the AV lab where Warrick was waiting.

* * *

The case was over. Grissom, Catherine and Brass were dining at the Sphere hotel's restaurant, Nick, Warrick and Sara were heading out for a three-course meal at Tut's Tomb, and Greg was in the AV lab, examining his prize.

He picked up his phone and dialled the number on the scrap of paper.

"It's me. I've got it." Greg spoke into the phone with deliberate calm. "When can we meet?"

"Tomorrow night. Oh, and Sanders?"

"Yeah?"

"Nice work."

"Thank you." This was it...

"Before you hang up, there is someone else's name on this disk that I think you might want a look at."

Ecklie was intrigued. "Who?"

"Gil Grissom."


	9. Warrick Works It Out

**Chapter 9 – Warrick works it out!**

**Disclaimer – **Don't own CSI, don't own nothin'!

**Notes – **The story is coming to a head. This chapter is set right after 'King Baby', so beware the constant spoilers and dialogue (including stuff from the series 4 episode 'Assume Nothing').

Out of all the CSI's in Las Vegas, Warrick Brown alone had some idea as to what Greg was doing. This was due mostly to a conversation he'd had with Catherine Willows, until recently his colleague, now his supervisor.

Warrick, of course did not have a problem with this. Catherine was a good friend, and a natural leader. He had certainly known worse superiors, even supposing a wish would have put the entire team back together again under Grissom's command.

What Warrick DID have a problem with, and had for some time now, was that Catherine was not a day-shift supervisor as she deserved. Warrick had always done his best, again unlike the other CSI's, to stay on Ecklie good side, but sometimes it was just impossible. This was one of those times.

He had always figured that old Griss just didn't know how to be diplomatic, how to handle Ecklie properly. Now he knew better. There _was_ no 'properly' where that old kiss-ass was concerned. He'd learned that the hard way, along with the others...

Not without effort, Warrick, sitting alone in the break room, turned his mind to the problem at hand. Greg. For the last month or so, young Greggo had been acting kind of weird. Well, weirder than usual, anyway...

The last few times Warrick had seen him, Greg had been kind of tense, on edge. In fact, he'd looked almost frightened. Warrick, picking up on this, had asked Greg if he was okay. Greg's only response had been a distracted "Sure" that had privately scared the shit out of Warrick. He'd never known Greg to be so...quiet. So...subdued...

No, he recalled, there had been other times. Once, when Greg had frozen up on a case long ago, where a bus had careened off the road, killing damn near everyone on board. It had taken him a while to recover, especially when he'd heard that the driver had been a fatality.

And, of course, there had been the lab explosion...

Warrick had realised that if this was the basis of comparison he was using for Greg's current behaviour, it must be something pretty big. Now, of course, he knew what...

The conversation with Catherine that had opened his eyes had been about thirty minutes ago, in the break room. Yesterday they had closed the Bruce Eiger murder case, and he, Nick and Sara had gone out to Tut's Tomb to celebrate. Warrick had liked that. It reminded him of when they were all one team, long before the days of Ecklie's anal regime...

He'd entered the break room three hours ago to discuss the case with Catherine; in particular to find out if any damage had been done to her career over the video card stolen from her camera.

"Hey Cath. How's it going?"

"Slow, dull, and with free paperwork, just the way I like it. Oh, and night shift have a nice juicy murder case on their log. With Day shift, it's a multiple homicide. Y'know, I remember when I used to love this job."

"Yeah, I hear that. Listen, ah, how did it go with Ecklie over the missing photos. Or don't I want to know?"

At this point Catherine's expression had turned thoughtful "To be honest, Warrick, I don't know how it went. He saw the shots on the news. I told him they were mine, and he just said he'd get a warrant for them and the name of the informant."

Warrick was relieved, yet puzzled "He didn't raise hell over it?"

"Raise hell? He didn't even raise his voice! It was so weird. It...was almost like he was covering for me."

Warrick was temporarily speechless. But only temporarily.

"Whoa, hold it. Stop the world; I want to get back on here! Ecklie, Conrad Ecklie _covered _for you?"

"Yeah. He was even polite."

"Okay, now the world officially makes no sense!"

"Tell me about it. Hey" Catherine suddenly looked a little grossed out; "you don't think he's...hitting on me...do you?"

Warrick took a brief, unwilling moment to imagine Cath and Ecklie sharing a light supper together and felt like kicking Ecklie in the ass, and vomiting. In that order.

"Wait, isn't Ecklie married?"

"Come on, Warrick, like that's gonna stop him!"

"Yeah, I guess. Hey, do you know if Greg's got anything on his mind? You know, anything we can help with?"

"Greg. Boy, do he and I need to talk..."

"What do you mean?"

Catherine faltered. The guilt was eating her alive inside. It was no good. She had to tell _someone_! Warrick knew how to be discreet, had always understood what the others might not. It was time to let him know.

"Warrick...Greg asked me to do something, back when Sara got suspended, something which I would NEVER have done under any other circumstances...I still don't know why I did it..."

"Why? What did he ask?"

"He told me...hell, he practically begged me, to tell Ecklie that Sara should get disciplined further."

It took a moment for Warrick to absorb this information. "GREG! Greg Sanders, formally of DNA, asked you to take Ecklie's side!"

Catherine's face was tight, her expression grim. "Yes."

Warrick wasn't at all sure he wanted to know the answer to his next question, and it suddenly occurred to him that he needn't ask it. He already knew that Catherine had done as Greg had asked. _That_ was why Ecklie was covering for her; because he thought she was on his side!

Warrick gave voice to the biggest question in his mind: "Why? Why in the hell would Greg ask you to do that?"

"I don't know! I don't know, Warrick!" Catherine's voice cracked slightly on the last 'know' "I just...he said that Sara's whole life depended on it..."

Whilst Warrick was processing this information (not without effort), Catherine hastily wiped her eyes and forced a noncommittal expression onto her face. The reason soon made itself clear. Nick was striding towards the break room, wearing his trademark black leather coat, black t-shirt, faded Levi's, and a very familiar scowl.

Oh yeah, Warrick knew that look. Eyes fixed dead ahead, jaw set, just about every muscle in his face tightly clenched. That look meant Nick was pissed. Great, thought Warrick, just what I need right now. Cath's upset, Greg's jerking us around, and now Nick looks ready to solve his problems through the fine old tradition of Kicking Ass.

"Hey, Nick, how's it hangin'?"

"Great."

Real convincing, Nick. "Seriously, man, what's up?"

Nick poured himself some coffee. "Ah, it's just there's a lot of stuff goin' on that I can't figure out."

Warrick and Catherine both knew that for Nick to be this mad, it went further than that, but it was a start. "Maybe we can help" Cath interjected. "We are scientists, after all."

Nick's expression softened a little. "Accumulation of events, I guess. Sara getting suspended, Ecklie micromanaging the shifts, and Greg playing some dumb-ass practical joke on me."

Warrick tried to stifle a grin. This ought to be good. Ever since Nick and Greg had met, they had always tried to one-up each other, but it was always harmless stuff. Greg had stretched the limit once by mixing pink hair dye with Nick's shampoo, but it was never something the other couldn't bounce back from.

Nick saw Warrick's 'cough' for what it was, and his expression hardened again. "This isn't funny, man! I could get two weeks unpaid leave for this!"

Warrick's smile vanished. This WAS serious! Cath sobered up too. "Why? What did he do?"

Nick hesitated. He'd never been good at confessing mistakes, but he'd learned the hard way that it was better to confess to the right person than have the wrong person figure it out for themselves. He braced himself, and turned to Catherine, addressing her directly.

"I...er...I messed up. Bad."

Catherine tilted her head to one side, as she usually did when hearing a suspect confess. "How's that?"

Nick swallowed. "When Sara and I were processing that toy box from Bruce Eiger's mansion, Sara got a call from Grissom telling her to meet him somewhere. Then Greg came in saying that Clarice Robertson was here to see me..."

Warrick was tickled "Isn't she that cultist or something...?"

"Don't start. Any way, I just...freaked out, I guess, and I..."

"Hold it. I think I can see where this is going." Danger rumbled ominously in every syllable when Catherine spoke. "You're saying that you left evidence unguarded to go and hide."

Nick pressed on awaiting the explosion "From a girl who wasn't there at any time."

The explosion didn't come. Instead, Catherine leaned back in her chair and put her hands to her face. "Dammit, Nick! I left evidence alone for a while on the same case, and look what happened! Warrick did y...Warrick?"

But Warrick was gone.

* * *

Warrick was almost running down the corridor, heart pounding in his chest and a horrible suspicion growing in his mind. His eyes were now wide open. If Sara and Nick had both left the evidence alone, then there was a strong possibility that...

He found Sara in the trace lab. "Sara. When you were processing the toy box from Eiger's play pen on our last case, why did you leave the evidence lab?"

Sara was slightly fazed by this weird question, but wasted little time answering. "Uh, Greg called me and told me that Grissom needed to see me. Total lie; Grissom was too deep in conversation with Sophia to even realise that...Hey, where are you going? Hey, Warrick!"

It was then that Warrick knew. Suddenly, and unmistakeably, Warrick knew. He bounded out of the trace lab and rushed back towards the evidence vault.

That was when he heard the gunshot.


	10. The Meeting

**Chapter 10 – The Meeting...**

**Disclaimer – **The odds of me owning CSI or any TV show of any kind are mathematically incalculable.

**Notes – **This chapter might contain spoilers from any episode in the history of CSI, right up to 'Big Middle'. You have been warned.

Greg strode down the crime lab corridor, files in hand and purpose in mind. It was time. It would be stupid to say that there was no turning back now, because he had passed the point of no return almost a week ago.

Greg knocked on the door of the office. As he did, it occurred to him that he himself was the very last person he would suspect of doing something like this. If he had known he was going to do something like this when he first came aboard CSI, would he still have done so?

As Ecklie opened the door with a smile that would have frozen magma, Greg decided that foreknowledge would only have strengthened his resolve. He entered the assistant director's office, and sat opposite the desk at Ecklie's invitation.

"So, Sanders. I'm glad at least one of the CSI's on night shift has shown some initiative."

"My middle name, Ecklie, but first I need some assurances."

Ecklie's eyes lit up "You've got it with you?"

"What did I just say?" Greg wasn't backing down.

"Fine. What assurances do you need?"

"You covered for Catherine when she lost the film on the Eiger case just like I asked you to. I want you to back off on Sara, as well. Stop trying to get her fired, and you can have the information."

Ecklie's reaction was instant. "Consider it done."

Greg's eyes widened slightly. "Just like that?"

"As long as it **is** him..."

Greg smiled coldly. "I guarantee; the info in this file," he hefted a brown envelope "is worth at least a ten, maybe a twelve year prison sentence."

A prison sentence! Though Ecklie gave no indication of it, he was gloating inside. Gil Grissom in the slammer! A dream come true! His career in ruins, his life effectively over, alone in a state prison. Beautiful!

"Very good, Sanders. Okay, I think we can safely say that Sara is invincible."

In reply, Greg tossed the envelope across the desk. Ecklie caught it, and smiling greedily, opened it up...

And found himself looking at a photo of himself.

Not a portrait shot either. The picture was a grainy, yet unmistakeable shot of Ecklie sitting in a diner with an elderly gentleman, whose own identity was obscured by a window frame.

Ecklie knew who it was though. Oh yes. With a sudden rush of belated understanding, he realised that he was looking at his supplier, the man who had been paying him to reveal crime scene information and tamper with evidence. The very man, in fact, who had allowed him to become assistant director of the Las Vegas crime lab in the first place!

And there was more. Much, much more. Brushing the photo aside, he found transcripts of telephone conversations between himself and the same gentleman, information on cases that had been kicked in court due to tampering or publicity leaks, files on items that had been re-examined for false trace evidence, and more and more and more!

With an expression of sheer, blind horror, Ecklie looked up at Greg, who was grinning contentedly. "Compliments of myself, a little initiative, a few judges and cops, and good old sheriff Rory Atwater, architect of this entire elaborate scheme."

Greg reached down and lifted up his shirt, exposing both a surprisingly well-developed chest, and a wire! "Like I said, a twelve year prison sentence. But not Grissom's."

The smile remained on his face, but his eyes became cold pits of savage triumph. "You must have thought that I was the last person in the crime lab, no, the world, to pull off something like this."

It was about halfway between the word 'off' and the word 'this', that Greg's stopped smiling, as he saw a look in Ecklie's eyes that turned his bowels to water. Greg knew that look. It was the expression a wild animal got when it was trapped without hope of escape.

Once, when Greg was young, his overbearing father had all but glued a Winchester rifle to his hands and dragged him out hunting. Greg had hated every second of it. The boredom as they waited for something to show up, the clumsy weight of the gun in his trembling grip, the frantic screams of his irate dad to 'pull the Goddamned TRIGGER!' But what Greg never forgot was when they had cornered the deer.

Sanders the Elder was practically drooling with the prospect of a kill, but Greg couldn't help but wonder if his father would be so eager if they had been hunting something that could hunt them. Then he saw the light in the deer's eyes. Greg never forgot that look. It was desperate and crazed and furious. Greg yelled a warning at the exact same time the buck charged, bowling his father over and darting into the woods before the old man could bring his gun to bear.

Of all that day, Greg remembered best the look in the buck's face when they cornered it. It was frighteningly similar to the gleam in Ecklie's eyes now. Was he going to lunge?

Too late, Greg remembered the letter opener Ecklie kept near his 'IN' pile on his desk, hidden behind a stack of papers from the eyes of anyone on Greg's side of the room. Greg had a gun, of course, but by the time he'd even thought of using it, Ecklie's hand was already moving.

To his own dull surprise, Greg's overriding emotion wasn't terror, or panic, or despair. It was self-reproach. How could he have been so stupid, he wondered, to think that someone like Conrad Ecklie would simply admit defeat? He should have known, better, should have been more ready...

But it was far too late. Greg Sanders waited for the end...


	11. Brass Moves

**Epilogue – Brass Moves...**

**Disclaimer –** Is this really necessary? It is? Oh well. Me no own CSI. Happy?

**Notes – **This may or may not be the final chapter. Spoilers from no episode for once.

Ecklie stared at the file in front of him, and recognised defeat when he saw it. I'm finished, he thought numbly. It's all over, the boy's ruined me, it's over...

But something wild and desperate woke up in Conrad Ecklie and told him that it wasn't over, that at least he could cut the insolent little bastard's throat, spill his guts onto the floor, turn his face inside out...

The eternal cunning that lived in Ecklie turned into something animal and fundamentally ugly. The little shit would be more useful as a hostage, at least until they got to Ecklie's SUV...

It was at this point that Greg's smile faltered, as he realised what Ecklie meant to do...

Naturally, Conrad had no intention of letting Sanders live. He would get to the car, drive out to the desert, and Greg would die screaming and alone. Simple.

Had Ecklie been watching this scenario from outside, he might have said 'Simple but stupid!' But then, desperate men rarely think such matters through...

And besides, he could clean up behind himself. Leave no trace of forensic evidence to indicate where he had gone, or even that he had killed this little shit-stain. After all, had he not, alongside Grissom, learned from the once-legendary Philip Gerard?

His hand shot out for the seven-inch stainless steel letter-opener next to his 'In' pile...

It never got there. Long after it was all over, Greg's poor tired brain was still trying to calculate, or at least comprehend, the impossible speed at which Brass's gun had cleared it's holster. The speed of the bullet leaving the barrel seemed almost slow by comparison.

I'm dead, oh shit, I'm dead, he's killed me, Greg thought wildly upon hearing the deafening crash of the pistol. But there were few left alive in the world who could shoot like James Richard Brass, fatherless son of a cruel old lady who had raised him with an iron fist.

The bullet impacted the stainless-steel blade and sent it spinning towards the back wall. Ecklie howled like a wounded jackal and drew his hand back. Then, not fully comprehending what he was doing, he turned to grab it off the floor.

"That wasn't an accident, Ecklie. The next one goes in your head."

Ecklie, looking now into Brass's face, saw nothing but a mask carved from ice, and heard no mercy in that voice. He knew Brass meant it. Half scowling, half whimpering, Conrad Ecklie surrendered.

As two uniforms came in to put the cuffs on Ecklie, Brass entered the office fully. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah..." Greg was trembling with reaction, and certainly didn't _look_ okay. But then, who would? "Whe..where did you come from?"

"The hallway. I was watching you and listening in on the wire. Hey, listen, the sheriff's here. He wants to say thank you."

"The...the sheriff. Right."

Brass looked at Greg with concern. "I can take a message if you..."

"I'm fine! I'm fine! I'm just...kinda shaken...I'll talk to the sheriff. Where is he?"

"AV lab. The cops who took the photos and the judges who signed your warrants for Ecklie's phone and laptop are with him."

Greg's expression cleared slightly. "Great. I'd better get over there. What are you gonna do with, er..." he motioned back at Ecklie, who was now close to tears.

Brass' face lit up in an evil smile "Oh gee, y'know what? I left the squad car right out front, so I guess I'll have to take him through the main building in front of everybody!" Brass raised his voice during the last third of this sentence and turned to Ecklie so that he could hear clearly. That did it. Ecklie burst into wracking, self-pitying sobs.

"Very cruel and very cool." Greg said appreciatively. He turned to leave, but then lingered a moment. "Brass...thank you. I owe you my life."

Brass suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Hey, come on Sanders. It's not like you to be this serious."

Greg's face spilt into a demented grin that told Brass the old Greg Sanders was fine and dandy, or would be. "Enjoy it while you can. Tonight, I'm gonna celebrate big time, and everyone's invited! Except you Ecklie."

With that, he was gone.

Brass turned his attention back to the now-handcuffed Ecklie. "I have been waiting a _long_ time for this...Conrad Ecklie, you are under arrest for Bribery and Corruption, Tampering with State's evidence on six counts, obstruction of justice, ten counts, attempted assault with a deadly weapon, one count, violating more articles of scumbag than I can even begin to count, and being the biggest asshole in Nevada. You have the right to remain silent (and I strongly suggest you do so). Anything you say or don't say may be used as evidence in a court of law against you. You have the right to an attorney. If you don't have one, the state will provide a public defender for your case. Do you require any form of aid. No? Good. Let's go."

Brass (eventually) managed to march Ecklie out of his office, and down the corridor.

* * *

The crime lab would remember that day for long days afterwards. Conrad Ecklie, in handcuffs, being frog-marched down the corridor by Captain Brass. Everyone in the main building was running around like escaped mental patients, trying to work out where that gunshot had come from (the one Brass had fired in Ecklie's office, and the same one that Warrick had heard on his way to the evidence vault), so there was no shortage of spectators for the big event. 

Warrick and Archie from AV were the first to see it. "Brass! Where the hell did that shot come from?"

"It's okay. False alarm. Just me, making an arrest."

"An arre..." Two pairs of eyes flicked to Ecklie, then back to Brass. "No. No way. You're kidding me." Warrick's expression was that of a man who didn't quite believe something, but so desperately wanted to.

"Don't believe me, ask the sheriff. He's in AV." With that, a grinning Brass and a scowling Ecklie made their collective way down the corridor.

For a few moments, there was silence. Then Archie's shocked expression turned into a jubilant smile. "YEESSSSS!" Archie roared in joy and punched the air with both fists. Warrick collapsed against a doorframe, laughing in delirious relief.

Next on the scene were Nick and Sara, wondering what the hell was going on, as they had just heard a gunshot come from the main offices, then arrived to find Archie literally jumping for joy, and Warrick laughing his ass off. Warrick brought himself under control long enough to fill them in. "Ecklie's just been arrested! Brass just marched him down the hall in cuffs!"

Sara and Nick were stunned into silence for a moment. Then Sara, wearing the most hopeful expression Warrick had ever seen asked if it was really true. Archie confirmed it was, still jumping like a kangaroo on a trampoline. Nick then threw his head back and let out a deafening "YEEEHAAAA!" He scooped Sara into his arms and swung her around as she laughed for joy.

The others were filled in one by one as a hyperactive Archie raced through the crime lab at damn near the speed of light. First Jaqui Franco, then Catherine, then O'Riley, then Sam Vega, then Doc Robbins, who banged his cane on the floor and cheered, cracking open a bottle of bubbly. David was next, who didn't know much about Ecklie, but smiled politely anyway, as it seemed to be something that overjoyed Archie and the others. After him came Ronnie from Questionable Documents, then Hodges, who looked thunderstruck at the news, and then Sophia Curtis, whose only response was a surprisingly vicious "Yes! What goes around comes around, Ecklie!"

Last of all was Gil Grissom. Upon hearing the news, he didn't cheer or jump for joy. Instead he sat at his desk wearing a small, sad smile, and wondered how someone he had used to call colleague and partner could have fallen so low...

* * *

Greg, meanwhile, was being congratulated by Sheriff Atwater, hi-fiveing the surveillance cops, and shaking hands with Judge Dudley Anderson (once described by Sara Sidle as "not the sharpest tool in the shed". She couldn't have been more wrong.) 

Greg handed the wire and tape to the sheriff. "Okay, there's Ecklie on tape, plenty of stuff there. Add that to the photos, the phone transcripts and the case evidence, and it's enough for a lotmore than twelve years...if he doesn't start talking soon."

"Yes, we still need to find out the identity of this mysterious old guy who Ecklie's been taking orders from. He's talked to him on the phone several times, but the voice is too heavily distorted to get a positive ID. I hope you can get him to talk..."

The smile that lit up Greg's face would have made a rabid wolf freeze in its tracks. "Oh, trust me. Ecklie will deal. With all this evidence and only him to take the fall, he'll deal."

The sheriff sighed "So, Sanders, with Ecklie gone, we'll need a new assistant director. Any thoughts?"

"I think Dr.Grissom would be ideal for the post. Temporarily, at least."

Atwater smiled. He'd seen that coming a mile off. "We'll see about that. But I guess your work with Ecklie isn't quite done yet."

Greg Sanders' smile faded slightly. No, he wasn't finished with Conrad Ecklie.

Not by a long shot.

* * *

The celebrations lasted well into the night, and into the next morning. The CSI's, the lab techs, the detectives, even the coronor staff were united in celebration at the end of Conrad Ecklie's reign of anal retentiveness. 

Catherine, more than a little drunk, anddelerious at the prospect of finally getting her much deserved Day Shift supervisory position, had begun a conga line that so far included Jaqui Franco, Brass, Warrick, and O'Riley.

Greg was wasting no time and sparing no details as he told everyone about the arrest and how it had gone down, laying particular emphasis on the speed and otherworldy accuracy of Brass' shot.

"It was unbelievable! He was just so...fast...I mean, before I knew what was happening it was over..."

But for Archie, the highlight of the evening came when Sara approached him with a warm smile on her face, speaking to him quietly.

"Greg told me about what you did with the video. How you helped him stop Ecklie from firing me."

Archie was stunned, and for a moment couldn't find his voice. When he did, he looked at his feet, embarrassed. "Well...I, I didn't do that much..."

Sara leaned down and planted a brief but heartfelt kiss on his lips. "Thank you."

She turned around and left Archie with a glowing face, and a much-inflated ego.

Finally, Grissom called a toast. "To the end of a tyrant's reign."

And a thunderous roar followed: **"NO MORE ECKLIE!"**

And as all the revellers raised their glasses and drained them, they looked forward to a new beginning...

* * *

**Author's Note:** That, ladies and gents, is the end of this story, but not the whole tale. Coming soon; the sequel: The Mysterious Dude Defence. I hope you enjoyed this fic. Feedback, positive or negative, will be much appreciated. Bye! 


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